


His Name is Castiel

by cumberbabeswillrise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: definite trigger warning, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberbabeswillrise/pseuds/cumberbabeswillrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How you first meet Cas. He stops you from committing suicide. -Oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Name is Castiel

Tears stream down your face. Your breathing is so loud it cancels out the rest of the noise in the crappy hotel room you are in. God, your chest hurts.

You stare at the options in front of you. You can choose your knife, your gun, or the bottle of sleeping pills. You're crying so hard now that you can barely see. You were so damn tired. So damn tired of fighting a losing uphill battle.

Your husband had been possessed by a demon, and he had tortured your five year old daughter _right in front of you._ It's been a year, but god dammit, how much further do you have to go without them? Your brother Ash was dead, long gone in a bar fire set by some demons a few years ago. Your father was gone, your mother had deserted you a long time ago. You were completely and utterly alone.

Your phone rings again. You look over, Dean Winchester again. He had been calling lately about helping on a case, but you had been too tired to pick up. He'll leave another threatening voicemail, detailing what he'd do to you if you didn't pick up.

“(Y/N), pick up the damn phone. I need your help, okay? I will hunt you down if I have to.”

 _You can't do anything to me that I haven't already done to myself_ ,you think, looking at the fresh and healed cuts that line your arms. This was too much. Yes, it was your fault that your husband and daughter died, and you deserved to feel the pain of living without them, but it was so damn _hard._

There was nothing left for you here. No one wanted you. No one cared. You didn't care. The tears had long since stopped, and you knew that you were past feeling. You were over the pain and the sadness. You were ready to die. Now, all you had to choose was how to do it.

You decide that your hunting knife would be good enough. You'd used it the most often, on demons, shape shifters, and the like. The gun was too quick, and you deserve the pain. The sleeping pills would do just that; put you to sleep. The knife would let you bleed out, slowly and properly, just like you deserved.

You strip your clothes and neatly pack them into your dufflebag. There was no need to make too much of a mess. You move to the bathtub, in your underwear, and sit yourself down comfortably. You were so numb, so void of any fear of dying.

Closing your eyes, you put the cool blade onto your wrist, readying yourself. Taking a deep breath, you push down hard, pulling the blade up to your elbow. You do the same to the other.

The blood pours quickly, pumping hotly down your arms and into the tub. You can feel it running down your legs. You lean your head back and close your eyes. It hurts, your arms do, but it's okay. You swear you can see your baby girl, smiling and giggling, her chocolate eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

“What are you doing?” a gruff voice breaks through your reverie. You groggily open your eyes and look up at him. You're starting to feel cold. The end is coming. “Do you know what you've done?”

The man places two hands on your arms. Immediately, the coldness is replaced by burning heat. You cry out, wishing for it to stop. The heat fades away, and you stare up into the blue eyes of the man who just saved your life.

“What? Why did you do that?” you whisper, tears falling down your cheeks. You didn't deserve to be saved.

“You can't die, not like that. Dean would kill me if I let that happen to you.” The man makes a face, looking awkward as all hell.

“Who are you?”

The man smiles, picking you up out of the bathtub. “My name is Castiel.”

 


End file.
